


Keeping watch

by cutiesonthehorizon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Sleep Deprivation, Snuggling, Worried Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 19:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12464640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiesonthehorizon/pseuds/cutiesonthehorizon
Summary: Dean can't sleep, Sam is here to help.





	Keeping watch

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short SPN fic written for Tumblr Whump Secret Santa 2017. My recipient asked for - Someone needs some sleep so they get wrapped in blankets and snuggle. Hopefully, this works:) 
> 
> Non-betaed.

60 hours. That's how long Dean stayed awake... had to stay awake. The last time he fell asleep, the demon almost got him. If not for Sammy noticing his suddenly ragged breaths... well, Dean didn't want to think about it anymore. It was over. After 60 hours of staying awake, they finally got the dream creature that was responsible for eight deaths in Harrisville and Dean could go to sleep and put this whole nightmare behind. The only problem was he couldn't. Not really. He was pumped full of caffeine and not even the sound of his baby's purring engine could make him relax. He was like a coiled spring, ready to explode at any moment. Sam knew that, yet he still hoped the four hour drive to the bunker would make Dean sleep.

"Come on, man. Just... close your eyes," he said after another ten minutes of listening to Dean's fingers tapping at the passenger window.

Dean's head snapped over to his brother, jaw clenched and one eye twitching slightly. Sam winced when he saw the dark bags under the widely open eyes.

"Dude, you think I haven't tried?" Dean barked nervously, shaking his head in frustration. "Why don't you let me drive? It would help me relax," he grumbled and Sam snorted.

"Right. You haven't slept for almost three days. You're hopped up on caffeine and probably a dozen kinds of energy drinks. Dude, I could probably count your heartbeat just looking at your jugular. No way in hell am I letting you drive a car."

"Fine!" Dean spat. "Then just stop the car and let me run it off. I bet I could run home faster than you're driving."

Sam rolled his eyes. He understood Dean was stressed, hell, he himself had barely caught a catnap in the last two days and couldn't wait to reach the bunker, but right now all he wished was for Dean to finally let go and relax. And to stop that hellish tapping on the car window.

"Dean! Cut that out!" he shouted after another five minutes and Dean jerked, his fingers pausing. He shot Sammy a startled look that quickly changed into annoyance.

"As you wish," he muttered, letting his hand fall into his lap... only to let the nervous motion move from his hand to his leg, which started tapping.

Sam clenched his teeth and saw his knuckles go white from the force he was clutching the wheel. But he didn't say a word. All he did was turn on the radio and pull down the car's window, to let in some fresh air. Maybe the wind would help keep him awake and bury the sound of Dean's restlessness. It was only three and a half more hours to the bunker. Sam gave Dean a sideways look then decided to hell with it. He stepped on the gas and hoped they won't encounter any cops.

* * *

 

Despite Sam's faster speed, Dean couldn't relax. He tried closing his eyes, but each time he did there was a sudden weight on his chest, just like at the hotel, three days ago. One of Bobby's old friends called them, because there was a sudden surge of strange deaths in Harrisville. Five young men died in their sleep, without obvious reason and three more were found in the nearby forests, without a visible cause of death. Sammy, being the nerd he was, hit the bunker's library before Dean even finished the call. Of course he came up with the Asian sleep demon called Dab Tsog.

 _"The Laotian Hmong people call it dab tsog or tsog tsuam, meaning "to crush, press, or smother."_ _Sam read from the book, continuing with the stories about the immigrants from Laos who started dying in their sleep, seemingly without reason. All young, healthy men. „_ _They even named it Sudden Unexpected Nocturnal Death Syndrome, or SUNDS."_

_Sam turned the page in the book and there were pictures of other dream demons that caused nightmares and death._

„ _Cute," Dean muttered, looking over Sam's shoulder at the drawing of the creature know as Batibat. Sam rolled his eyes._

_"I don't think you'd find it so cute if it was sitting on your chest," Sam said, unknowingly prophesying just what was going to happen._

_Several hours later the boys arrived to Harrisville. They booked a room in an old motel on the outskirts of the town... the one that was closest to the woods where the other three victims were found, then spent the next four hours doing research and interviewing relatives and the local pathologist. When they arrived back to the motel, Dean called shotgun for the bathroom, then plopped down on the bed and fell asleep. Sam just shook his head in dismay and went to take his own shower. Two hours later he was awakened by a strange, gasping sound._

_"Dean?" he called out half asleep and turned on the bedside lamp. Dean didn't respond. He was lying on his back, eyes closed and mouth open in an attempt to take in some air. Sam's eyes widened as he saw the bluish tint on his brother's lips and the chest that wasn't moving. Jumping out of the bed, Sam grabbed Dean and pulled him up into a sitting position, shaking him along the way._

_"Dean! Come on, wake up!"_

_There was a sudden gasp and Dean's eyes opened, wide and panicked._

_"That's it. Breathe!" Sam had one hand grasping the back of Dean's neck, the other lay on his chest, making sure it was moving. For a second Dean looked widely around, his eyes pausing at the end of the bed. Sam instinctively looked there but all he could see were shadows. He swore and turned back to Dean, even as he finally felt his brother's chest rise in a shallow breath that was followed by coughing and more gasping._

_"Okay, you're okay, Dean. Just breathe. That's it," Sam couldn't hide his relief upon seeing the blue tinge leaving his brother's lips, only to be replaced by a string of soft curses when Dean finally got his breathing under control._

_"We'll get that bitch, don't worry. Just breathe."_

_Dean threw him a glare, while his hand touched a sore spot on his chest. His ribs felt almost bruised, as if it was an elephant sitting on him, not a small furry looking creature with the face of the devil. Shivering, Dean decided that he won't sleep until they got that bastard. He never again wished to experience the feeling of helplessness when he couldn't move and couldn't take a breath._

_"I'm never gonna sleep in this fucking town again," he muttered and Sam grimaced, but didn't comment. He knew his brother and just how stubborn he could be._

_"Well, we better take care of this right away then."_

The _right away_ took them almost three days. That was how long they needed to figure out the creature was bound to some sacred trees that were used as a building material in a local carpentry company. The five victims had the misfortune of buying furniture from the same person that sold several beds to the motel in which Dean and Sam slept. Once they got to hunt down the owner of the company a little persuasion from a rather disgruntled and sleep-deprived Dean made the guy hand over a list of all the furniture he made from those trees. So on their second and third day, Dean and Sam hunted down all the buyers, let the company owner put a re-call on the furniture and pay them back for it. Then they made a nice bonfire in their motel... because those three guys that were found in the forest were taken there by the motel owner. All three were guests, one of them even supposedly died in the same bed Dean slept in the first night. The motel owner didn't want to make a fuss, so he disposed of the bodies. Neither Sam nor Dean was very sympathetic. After pulling the fire alarm and making sure all the guests were out of the building... well, Dean had to admit he wasn't at all sorry seeing the motel owner standing in front of his burning building, hands pulling at his hair as he watched the flames slowly dying down. By the time the firefighters arrived, Dean and Sam were on their way home and the motel was gone.

* * *

 

„Finally, we're home," Sam sighed in relief, a bit disappointed when Dean opened his eyes and gave him a tired and frustrated look. "I thought you were asleep."

"The way you drive? Nah. I was praying that you don't crash my baby."

"Looks like Chuck listened to you then," Sam snapped back and Dean snorted, muttering something under his nose. Sam ignored him in favor of parking the car and stepping out, his joints cracking loudly as he stretched out. Dean followed suit, cringing a bit at the sound of popping joints. He really hated that sound, and Sam obviously knew, based on the smirk on his face.

"Asshole," Dean muttered and headed towards the bathroom. First he needed to shower and wash off the stink of fire that somehow still clung to his clothes then the bed awaited him. He was pretty sure he would fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow... at least he hoped so.

xxx

Sam was dreaming about a forest and the creatures that lived in it. This wasn't a bad dream, not by a long shot. He was walking down a small path, surrounded by trees and grass. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping and he could see something at the end of his path, an innocent looking doe. Sam froze, taking in the scenery and wondering what was wrong about it. Everything looked too peaceful, too perfect, even the breeze on his face. He took a step toward the doe. Her ears twitched, but she stayed in place, waiting, luring him closer. Sam threw caution to the wind and gave into the call of the wild. He slowly walked towards the small doe, so close he could see the twinkle in her eyes. Feeling more relaxed than ever, he reached out to pet the doe, when a shot rang out.

Sam was thrown out of the dream and sat up in his bed, his heart racing.

"What the-" He didn't even finish the thought when there was a sound of a body hitting the floor accompanied by Dean's cursing.

"Shit!" Sam was out of the bed faster than lighting and crashing into Dean's room before he realized the danger.

"Whoa, Dean!" he shouted, stopping on the spot, hands raised in the air and looking in confusion at his brother and also right into the barrel of a gun. Dean was sprawled on the floor right next to a chair that was the reason of his fall. What was more worrying was the gun in his hand aimed at Sam's face and the wild, unfocused eyes.

"Sammy?" he asked after a second and lowered the gun. Sam let out a sigh and slowly lowered his hands.

"Yeah, man, it's me. What the hell happened in here?"

Dean blinked, still looking half asleep.

"I don't know. I thought... " His hand went towards his chest, as if he could still feel the pressure of something heavy pushing down. "I thought I couldn't breathe. Guess I grabbed the gun..."

"Yeah, no kidding," Sam said, looking at the bullet hole that was adorning the wall across Dean's bed. "What were you shooting at?"

"That little furry bastard."

"Dude, we smoked it good. It's not coming back."

Dean shook his head and struggled to get up, realizing he didn't just hit a chair but also managed to tangle himself in some covers. He was just about to give in to his frustration when Sam leaned down and with a swift move extricated him from the mess. He also took away Dean's gun, put the safety back on and stashed it into the bedside table where it belonged then he turned back to his brother.

„You really need to get some sleep," Sam said and Dean threw him a half panicked look. „Come on, bro. What's keeping you up? I get that you drank a ton of coffee and energy drinks, but still..."

Dean shook his head, running a hand over his short hair.

"I just... can't. Every time I start falling asleep, there's this feeling..."

"Like you can't breathe?" Sam finished with sudden understanding. Dean just silently nodded and looked up at Sam, his eyes red with lack of sleep and face sullen from the dark circles beneath them. In the light of the bedside lamp he looked almost as bad as several years ago when he was dying and it startled Sam.

"Okay, why don't we go watch a movie? I'll make you some tea that will be sure to put you out."

Dean grimaced at the thought.

"I don't think I want to sleep again..."

"Though luck. You'll have to. But don't worry, I'll stay with you and keep the monsters away," Sam added with a slight smirk even as he headed towards the kitchen.

"Smartass," Dean called after him but didn't really have the energy to chase Sam down and show him just who was the one protecting whom. So he headed off to the couch and the TV, blindly surfing channels until he found one of his favorite movies. Settling in a bit more comfortably, Dean lost himself in the troubles of on John McClane, trapped in a building with terrorists during Christmas.

Sam walked in right on the scene when the bad guys realized they were in some deep trouble and was relieved to see the small smirk on Dean's face. That is until he handed him a steaming cup of tea. Dean sniffed at it then scrunched up his nose.

"What the hell's that?"

"Chamomile tea with some other herbs. It'll help relax you."

Dean opened his mouth to retort something, so Sam added: "Jess swore by it." Then he looked at Dean with all the innocence he could muster and barely held back his own smirk when Dean accepted the cup, ignoring his growled "That was low."

Sam waited until Dean took a reluctant sip.

"Eh, I've drank worse stuff," Dean shrugged and Sam plopped down on the couch next to his brother, nursing his own cup of tea and very happy that he put an extra spoonful of sugar into Dean's brew that would mask the taste.

John McClane was just crouching down behind a counter, barefoot and surrounded by broken glass, when Dean yawned. Sam's lips twitched, but he didn't say anything, just grabbed a soft blanket and threw it over to his brother.

"What the hell Sammy?" Dean startled and was about to chuck the offending thing back at Sam, but he was already bundling up in a blanket of his own.

"What? It's cold in here and we're not exactly dressed up."

That was true. Dean had his shorts and a shirt that was still a bit damp from sweat and while Sam had some sweatpants on, his shirt also wasn't doing much to combat the chill of the bunker in the middle of winter.

"I don't need some dumb blanket anyways," Dean grumbled and left the blanket lying by his side. Five minutes later Sam saw the subtle movement as Dean pulled the blanket over himself. Sam could've sworn he saw his brother snuggle into it and quickly averted his gaze before Dean figured out he was watching him.

The chamomile tea was surprisingly good and Dean started feeling relaxed, the stress of the last few days slowly leaving his shoulder. He sipped the last of the tea and froze. There was a soft layer of crystals on the bottom of his cup that definitely wasn't sugar. Frowning, he ran his tongue over his teeth, focusing more on the taste.

"Son of a-" he put the cup down and glared at his brother. "You drugged me?"

"Depends," Sam answered, calm as ever. "Did it work?"

"You little-"

"Hey, relax. It was just some sleeping pill. I'm not even sure if it'll work with all the caffeine you have in your system anyway," Sam tried to placate him even as Dean made a move to get off the couch. But as soon as he moved, the world tilted on its axle and he flopped right back down.

"Oh, it damn well worked," he muttered, pushing the knuckles of his hand against his eyes to try and clear them, but the room just kept spinning and the blinking light from the TV wasn't helping any. Dean didn't even realize Sam moved until he felt his brother softly push him to lie down on the couch.

"Come on, don't fight it."

Why the hell was Sammy so damn calm? There was something wrong with him. The world was tilting on its axle, Dean's stomach was flopping around and everything seemed to be covered in a haze.

"Whut-" Dean wanted to ask, but suddenly a soft pillow appeared under his head, the blanket was thrown across him and he could see Sam sitting down on the floor and leaning against the couch, so he was just a touch away from Dean's chest. Just the right distance for Dean to clobber him over the head for drugging him... the only problem was his arm didn't want to cooperate and move from under the comfortably warm blanket.

"Jerk," he managed to mutter before his eyes slipped closed.

"Love you too," Sam replied with a smirk, watching as Dean's eyes popped open, then slipped close again. He could see his brother was fighting the sleep, even though the fight was already lost. Still, the next time Dean's eyes popped open, Sam put a hand on Dean's face, making sure he had his brother's attention.

"Hey, relax. I'm here, I'll keep watch. You're safe."

There was a soft snort of protest from Dean and something Sam interpreted as a disbelieving 'You drugged me'.

"Yeah, and you're welcome," he said in reply, ruffled his brother hair then turned back to the TV, watching as John McClane faced off the bad guy. He finished his own cup of tea and once the Die Hard ended, changed the channel to some documentary about wildlife. Dean snored softly and Sam did as he promised. He kept watch.

**The End**


End file.
